All Hallow's Eve, 1898
by Erikthephantom07
Summary: Everyone’s favorite Newsboys have been stormed out of the World’s Evening Edition on All Hallow’s Eve, 1898. What are a bunch of newsies to do with nowhere to go and a lot of free time on the most frightening night of the year?
1. The Lumbajack

Everyone's favorite Newsboys have been stormed out of the World's Evening Edition on All Hallow's Eve, 1898. What are twenty-odd newsies to do with nowhere to go and a lot of free time on the most frightening night of the year?

"WEASE!" Jack Kelly shouted over the roaring of the wind. Rain whipped at their faces and the thunder pounded in their ears. "C'mon, Wease! Pulitzer can' stop for rain!"

"He can when dere ain't nobody buyin!" came an answering shout from behind the dry, wooden door at the New York World's Distribution Center.

Jack pounded on it fruitlessly for a few more moments, and then turned back to face his newsies. "He ain' comin out!" he yelled to the fifteen boys huddled around him.

"Den we ain' getting any dinner!" Racetrack shouted angrily.

"Klopp'll make us some," Kid Blink shrugged optimistically, desperately trying keep his hat from flying off of his face.

"'S worth a shot," Jack sighed loudly. The others nodded and raced back to the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, where they again found themselves huddled in the rain while Jack banged on the door. "KLOPP!" he shouted over the wind. "Pulitzer ain' sellin! We need in!"

To their utter delight, the door crept open, allowing them all to clamber in one at a time. "Wet clothes off!" Kloppman, the caretaker of the Lodging House and surrogate grandfather to the newsies cried. There was a lot of grumbling at that pronouncement, but all ceased when he added, "or no dinner!"

Needless to say, twenty minutes later all the newsies were to be found in their under shirts and pants, eating Kloppman's beef stew. They were each sprawled across their own bed, most with covers pulled up to their chin to avoid the chill of the outside air.

"What time is it?" Jack asked boredly, his black cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes.

"Eight-thirty," Mush sighed, trying to pick paint off of the ceiling without sitting up.

"Anybody up for a game a poker?" Race asked, his eyes gleaming as he shuffled his cards.

"No," almost everyone in the room answered sharply. Race was notorious for being an excellent hand at poker, a fact learned by many unsuspecting newsies, all of whom lost their dinner money shortly after any poker game.

"Well we've gotta do _some_thin!" Blink exclaimed, almost ripping out his good eye in bored frustration.

"I got an idea," a disgruntled voice growled from the bed across from him. "Once upon a time dere was a group o' idiots who wouldn' _shut up_."

Most of the older newsies rolled their eyes. "Nice ta see ya up an' happy as usual, Skitts," Race chuckled.

"Shut it, Race," Skittery snarled, turning over in his bed and trying to fall asleep.

"What happened next?" a small newsie, only about ten, asked Skittery hopefully. The talk in the House quieted, the younger boys looking in anticipation at Skittery and the older ones looking on with amusement.

"N…next?"

"Yeah, Skitts, next," Blink smiled maliciously, maneuvering to the edge of his bed for a better view. "What happened ta da kids?"

Skittery was obviously very uncomfortable. He'd only meant the comment as a sarcastic way to get the other boys to shut up, and now he was facing seven little boys climbing on his bed.

"Uh…well…dey uh…dey…"

"Dey woked up a lumbajack," Jack suddenly interjected without moving. Skittery breathed a sigh of relief as the swamp of young newsies crowded around Jack's bed. He tilted up his hat slightly as they made themselves comfortable on his top bunk. Underneath, Crutchy kept them at bay by poking them with his crutch.

"Whas a lumbajack?" the same ten year old asked in awe of Jack's intelligence.

"A lumbajack's a fella who cuts wood. Wit an axe," he added with a meaningful wink in Blink's direction. "So dese idiots, see, dey was all kids. Dey was screamin real loud outside da lumbajack's house. Now dis lumbajack, he'd been woikin all day to cut down da trees, an he was tired. So when dese kids wouldn' shut up, he got angry. Real angry. Maybe it was tiredness. Maybe he was just an old nut, but he up an got his axe, walked outside in da rain…just like tanight… and cut da kids ta pieces!"

There was total silence in the dimly lit room after Jack had finished his story. The only sound was the rain beating mercilessly against the windows, rattling the thin glass.

"But dere's more…" Blink said suddenly in a low voice. The heads of all newsies whipped around in his direction, and some of the braver young ones scrambled over to his bed. Most, however, clutched at Jack. "Now dis lumbajack killed these fellas on all Hallow's Eve. Ya ever heard of it?"

They all nodded their heads, mouths opened. The older newsies exchanged amused looks, each ready to take up the story when Blink had finished. "Dat's tanight," Snipeshooter said, trying to mask his intake of breath with a laugh.

"Dat's right," Blink nodded, his face growing more maniacal by the minute. "Now, afta he killed 'em he had ta do somethin' wit em, right?" They nodded enthusiastically, one of the smallest taking a firm hold on Jack's right arm. "Well, he takes 'em out behind his cottage – cos he lives in da forest, ya know – and he chucks em in da river…" Blink glanced out the window for a fraction of a second, trying to judge when the next thunder strike would sound. "However, one o' da kids wasn' dead… He waited till da lumbajack had turned around ta go home, an he crawls outta da water. Da axe was leanin against a tree, see, so's to wash da blood away-"

"Whose blood?" Bumlets mumbled suddenly, sitting up in his bed.

"'S a story, Bum, and ya're ruinin it!" Specs snapped.

"I ain't…ruinin nottin…" With that, he fell back asleep.

Blink cleared his throat, all eyes darting back to him. He was very good at inventing stories, as he did so on a daily basis to the cops. He adopted his best frightening voice, pronouncing each word slowly and deliberately, sometimes quickening his pace, sometimes slowing it, all adding the dramatic effect he wanted.

"Dis kid grabbed the axe an dragged it inside da cottage. Da lumbajack was drinkin his coffee and didn' notice. Da kid raised de axe, high over his head, and BAM!" Blink clapped his hands at the same time an incredibly loud clap of thunder roared over the Lodging House, rattling the beds slightly.

It wasn't only the young newsies who jumped. Dutchy choked on the piece of beef in his mouth and Mush slammed his head into the ceiling he'd been trying to eliminate the paint from. Even Jack twitched slightly, though he readjusted his hat and pretended it had never happened.

It took them a few moments to recover. The boy on Jack's arm was close to tears and Snitch's heart was pounding.

When he saw that they were, for the most part, able to breath, Blink continued without missing a beat. "He chopped dat lumbajack's head straight in two!"

"But dat ain' all!" Race exclaimed, jumping to his feet and managing to make Blink above him jerk in surprise. "Da kid, da lumbajack slayer, quickly died from da bloodloss soon afta. Remember, dough, kids, dat dis had all happened on All Hallow's Eve. Well, da spirits of da netherwoild didn' forget it…"

The topic of spirits and the netherworld caused all of them to feel uneasy. Kloppman, who'd been hiding out in the doorway the whole time shifted uncomfortably, and Jack turned over to get a better view of Race, tossing his hat to the side of his bed.

"Every All Hallow's Eve," Race continued in a low voice that matched anything Blink had been going for earlier. "Da spirit of da lumbajack and da kid's he killed comes out ta go hauntin…"

"And da thing is," Skittery said, finally joining into the story he'd began, "da forest where dis lumbajack lived used to be righ. Heah."

"H…heah…?" Tumbler squeaked.

"Heah…" Skittery continued ominously. See, dis whole story took place durin da Indian days, when dis part o' Hattan was all woods."

"Right undaneat dis Lodgin House," Crutchy offered, edging toward the end of his bed. "Was where da crimes all happened…"

"An' every all Hallow's Eve…" Jack added, all pretensions of sleep gone.

"Dey comes back!" Blink finished, again accompanied by a loud clap of thunder. Even he jumped.

Silence followed the last statement. All the newsies looked at each other, each completely spooked by the story they'd invented. It was nine o'clock and the sky was black. The oil lamps were being extinguished to save on their money and the room was lit by only two lamps. Both were near Jack's bed.

Another clap of thunder sounded outside, and all the newsies wandered over to Jack's bed, proclaiming that they should take care of the younger newsies.

"Just in case, ya know?" Mush coughed, disguising the slight tremble in his voice.

Another long silence followed as they all tried to avoid each other's gaze. Fear was a weakness none of them would ever admit, whether it was fear of the police or fear of a dead lumberjack and his murdered victims. Kloppman edged into the doorway, having looked down the stairwell and realizing how dark it was downstairs.

That was probably not his best move. Snipeshooter caught site of a silhouette moving in the doorway and let out a high pitched scream, pointing in the direction of Kloppman. All the boys spun around, and, sure enough, a dark silhouette was standing in the doorway. Mush gulped as Blink's eye widened. Kloppman, for his part, thought that they were staring at something behind him, and he froze in panic.

Everyone turned to Jack, though their eyes remained on the dark silhouette. "Righ, then," Jack said in an unusually high voice. "Best I, uh, I check it out…"

He climbed off of his bunk, landing with a heavy thud on the floor which made some of them look for the source of the noise. "It was me," Jack said reassuringly to them, and turned to confront what he suspected was the lumberjack.

Jack walked forward with cautious steps to where Kloppman, still frozen in terror, was breathing heavily. Jack lunged out at the silhouette, grabbing it by its neck area.

Kloppman, startled from his panic, hit Jack several times on the arm, trying to dislodge the tall boy's hand from his throat.

"Klopp?" Jack blinked when Kloppman's face caught light from the oil lamps. "Heya fellas, it's only Klopp!"

They all breathed a great sigh of relief and a few laughed nervously. Snitch's heart continued to pound furiously in his chest.

"Sorry, Klopp, we's didn' know you was standin' dere," Jack apologized as Kloppman ran his hands across his tender throat. He only nodded, still to frightened and startled to speak. "I tink we'd better go ta bed now, boys," Jack announced. He glanced at Mush for the time, who mouthed 'nine fifteen'. Jack rolled his eyes. He hadn't gone to bed so early since his days in the Refuge, and that had been against his will.

"Bed?" Snipeshooter moaned. "It's so early!"

"Den you can stay up and guard us agains' the lumbajack, Snipe. Everyone else, bed," Jack ordered, jumping onto his bunk and dismissing the crowd around it.

They all returned to their bunks and the lights were finally extinguished. Kloppman trudged downstairs with a candle to light his way, and most of the boys watched the light slowly fade into darkness.

Despite the orders to go to sleep and the engulfing darkness, all of the newsies, including Jack, remained awake long into the night, listening to the rain pelt the roof, their hearts skipping a beat with each thunder clap.


	2. The Lumbajack Returns

Chapter Two

By ten o'clock, almost all of the newsies had fallen asleep, despite the storm that continued to rage on outside of their windows. Blink, however, remained awake, and was seriously regretting not using the washroom before the story had begun a few hours ago. He lay on his back, constantly looking in the direction of the washroom. Should he go? He wasn't scared of the old lumberjack story. Sure, Kloppman in the doorway had surprised him a bit, but it wasn't real fear. More like, _caution_, he assured himself.

"When have I ever been cautious?" he muttered to himself, finally throwing back the bedcovers. He had to use the toilet and no threats of a mad axe wielding lumberjack would keep him from it. And besides, he'd invented half of that story anyway, so he knew it wasn't true. If only Race hadn't mentioned those "spirits"…

Blink landed nimbly on the ground, his body used to being quiet. How many times had he jumped from one fruit stand to another, avoiding the bulls with incredible ease. Silently, he crept to the washroom, his hand over his bad eye to avoid any blunders. He never slept with the patch on. It was an annoyance he tolerated fine enough during the day, it becoming almost a necessary part of him, but at night, no. He wanted it off.

He sighed contently as he made his way back out of the washroom a minute or so later. _Three things in this life make it good,_ he thought happily to himself as he tiptoed back to his bunk. _Girls, food, and_ –

Suddenly he froze. Illuminated in the doorway, directly across from him, there was a person. Blink stared at the silhouette, begging it to be Kloppman. This definitely was not the case. Slowly, painfully slowly, Blink turned his head to where he knew Jack's bunk was.

"Jack…" he whispered in a strained voice, his blindside momentarily facing the silhouette in the doorway. "Jack," he repeated with a bit more emphasis.

"I was jis," Jack mumbled in his sleep, "takin in da horses…"

"Jack!" Blink hissed through gritted teeth.

"I…" Jack forced his eyes open, fully expecting to look into the face of an Arabian mare, saddled and ready for another night in New Mexico. Instead, he was met with a shadowed, obviously anxious Kid Blink, his left hand over the same eye. "Whaddya want, Kid?"

"Look…" Blink gulped, trying desperately to remain composed, "in da doorway."

Jack, his vision still cloudy and his mind fogged from sleep, grunted and turned his head to look. "I don't see nuttin, Kid," Jack sighed.

Blink spun around. Sure enough, there was nothing to be seen except an empty doorway. "Jack," Blink began, shaking his head. "Jack, I ain't seein' things, dere was a…"

"A lumbajack?" the other yawned widely, his head falling heavily back onto his pillow.

"No, it wasn't no lumbajack!" Blink rolled his eye, searching the dark room for the offender. "It was smaller den da lumbajack is."

"Hey, Kid, I got somethin' ta tell ya," Jack muttered into his pillow. "Da lumbajack ain't real."

Blink nodded. "Right…night Jack."

Jack muttered something incoherent and fell back asleep.

Blink, his hand firmly over his eyes, edged back to his bunk, directly across from Jack's. He climbed quickly to the top, slid under the covers (completely), and shut his eye, one of Medda's old songs running loudly through his mind.

Jack, at last, could no longer take it. He'd tried desperately to sleep after Blink had quieted, and had succeeded for maybe five minutes, but the pain was too acute. He flopped onto the floor, making his way rather quickly to the toilet Blink had just vacated.

He bent down and loosened one of the bricks in the floor. Pulling out the tin can inside, he waited for the next round of lightning to sneak a glance at his family. With a small sigh, he returned the photograph to its hiding place and pushed the brick into place.

He ran a hand through his hair in contentment as he left the stall. _Three things in life that make it worthwhile,_ he thought happily. _Food, Santa Fe, and_-

Jack was usually never afraid. Sure, he'd been a bit shaken when they'd mistaken Kloppman for the murderous lumberjack hours earlier, but that was different. Other than that, Jack couldn't remember the last time he was afraid.

So it was with some concern that his breath caught in his throat and his heart missed a beat as another streak of lightning lit the room. On level with the second row of bunks in from the door was a silhouette. It was not a man's size, Jack could tell that as he faced off with this new figure. Jack was by no means small, known amongst the newsies as one of the tallest, and this person was definitely shorter than him. Significantly.

"Whaddya say?" Jack offered in greeting, angry at his voice for sounding slightly choked.

The figure seemed to be appraising him, but didn't say anything in response.

"I say dat you and whoever yous talkin to shut up," Skittery growled from the bed next to him.

"Heya…hey, Skit?" Jack asked, not taking his eyes off of the figure. Skittery groaned in response. "Ya wanna look down 'ere a second?"

"Whaddya want, Jack-" Skittery, after having slung his head over the edge of the bed, froze on seeing the person.

The three of them faced off, neither newsboy really knowing what to do with this new silhouette. It certainly wasn't Kloppman, but it wasn't nearly large enough to be the dreaded lumberjack. A voice floated into Jack's head. _"Every All Hallow's Eve, da spirit of da lumbajack and da kids he killed comes out ta go hauntin…"_ It couldn't be…they'd just made that story up to frighten the younger newsies. It wasn't real. It _couldn't_ be real.

"Alright, kid," Jack said, clearing his throat. "Whaddya want? You from around here?"

The figure cocked his head slightly. "Didn't Kloppman tell you?" it asked in what Jack knew was an unearthly voice.

The people in the beds next to them shifted uncomfortably. They were obviously awake. Everyone in the Lodging House was awake and waiting with bated breath to hear what would happen.

"Klopp didn' tell us nuttin, but if you got somethin ta say, you'd better say it now."

The spectral figure walked slowly – painfully slowly – up to Jack. The newsies held their breaths. Race considered making a dive at the specter, but thought he'd let Jack handle it. It was his problem anyway… It brought its arm up in the same slow manner, and Jack felt a bead of sweat trickle down his face. The arm rose, rose, until stopping. It was parallel to the floor. Jack's heart was pounding. It was magic. The ghost was about to curse him, and all the newsies knew it. It extended its fingers and-

"Hi, I'm Boots," it said. "Kloppman said I could sleep heah. I wanna be a newsie. Can ya show me?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Dere's a free bunk over heah," Race coughed, gesturing to one in the far corner.

"Thanks," Boots said, and they all watched his silhouette march over to it.

There was another awkward moment of silence, Boots unsure as to why everyone was acting so oddly.

Jack ran a hand across his face in an attempt at being casual and sauntered over to his bunk.

Blink leaned over so as to see Boots a little better.

"Hey, kid?" he called.

"Y…yeah?" Boots asked unsuredly, not yet at the point of trusting people.

"Ya ever hear of da murderin lumbajack?"


End file.
